by Daisy Styles
‘Bomber planes and submarines,’ Robin suggested with a hopeful smile.
‘That would be fun,’ laughing Shirley agreed. ‘But, now that I’m hoping to be a nun, I need to really improve my reading and writing, and maybe you can teach me Latin too?’ she asked in all innocence.
Gloria burst out laughing. ‘Heavens! You really have got the bit between your teeth!’ she exclaimed. ‘I can do as much reading and writing as you want but, sadly, Latin’s way beyond me, sweetheart,’ she admitted.
Robin’s green eyes all but fell out of his head when he heard that Shirley wanted to be a nun. ‘Are you going to wear a big nightie like Merry Paul?’ he asked in amazement.
‘Oh, I do hope so, sweetheart, if the convent will have me,’ Shirley answered in all sincerity. ‘Though I have to prove to the Reverend Mother who’s in charge of the convent that I’m good enough and clever enough to be a nun, and it takes years and years; you’ll be a teenager by the time I’ve taken my final vows,’ she joked.
Robin’s green eyes lit up. ‘I’m going to join my dad when I grow up. I’ll drive tanks and bomb all the Germans who get in my way,’ he announced with a heroic swagger.
Gloria’s face clouded at the very thought of her little boy going to war. ‘It will all be over with by then,’ she said firmly. ‘Daddy will be home and England will be at peace.’
‘Will you have had the baby by then?’ Robin asked.
Gloria and Shirley looked at each other, then fell about laughing.
‘Heavens above, I hope so,’ Gloria cried. ‘Otherwise it will be the longest pregnancy in history!’
Bringing order back to the classroom, Gloria said, ‘Are you really serious about becoming a run, Shirley?’
The girl nodded. ‘I’ve never been more serious about anything in mi life.’
‘But won’t your parents try and put a stop to it?’ she persisted. ‘After all, you’re very young.’
‘Sister Ann said that if they try to stop me, the convent can write to the police and tell them what my stepfather did to me. The police won’t believe me, of course – they’d never believe a girl like me – but my stepfather still won’t like the idea of the police being involved.’ Her eyes shot to Robin, who was hanging on her every word. ‘That’s enough of that for now,’ she said briskly. ‘Come on, young man!’ she added, as she recalled Robin’s words from the past. ‘Time to start learning me!’
With Heather’s formal adoption form, as well as her file, safely removed from her office to her own private suite, where it was secreted away alongside Bertie’s and Tom’s files, Matron turned her thoughts to other pressing matters. When Isla and her sharp-tongued grandmother were gone, the path would be clear for her and Percival to proceed, though the return of Shirley niggled Matron, who had thought she’d successfully got rid of the sly little minx. The girl was now apparently intent on becoming a nun, and Matron could only hope that the stupid thing might have forgotten anything she saw the night she stole Tom away. Anyway, Matron comforted herself, if Shirley did decide to talk, who would believe her? Matron had thoroughly covered all her tracks; there was nothing to arouse suspicion; and if the little madam did snivel, she would roundly accuse her of lying and deception.
Emily and Gloria spent as much time as they could spare with Isla, who was kept busy looking after her daughter and who, they knew, they would soon have to say goodbye to. In the privacy of her own room, Emily confessed to Gloria how sad she would be when Isla left Mary Vale.
‘She’s a marvellous woman,’ she told Gloria. ‘Clever but not big-headed, educated but not a show-off, funny and honest. I’ll miss her so much.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Gloria replied. ‘We’ll just have to make sure we keep in touch – maybe we could visit her once she’s settled back home in Windermere?’
‘We’ll have to take our cue from her,’ Emily said sensitively. ‘If she’s just getting over parting from Heather, us two bouncing up might bring back painful memories.’
Gloria gave a sigh. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘But I can’t bear the thought that we might not see each other again.’
A tap at the door interrupted their conversation. ‘May I come in?’ Ada called.
‘Of course,’ Emily said, opening the door to a grinning Ada, who, over the months they’d all been together in the Home, had become more of a friend to them than their ward sister.
‘Oh, it’s nice to get away from work, even if it is just for five minutes,’ Ada cried, as she flopped on the nearest vacant bed, where she kicked off her brogues and removed her starched cap, so that her long hair could hang loose and free. ‘So, ladies, come on, tell me your news.’
Emily gave her a big, excited smile. ‘I’ve heard back from George’s parents, a Christmas card this time – they want to meet me soon.’
‘Wonderful!’ Ada cried. ‘Any more news of George?’
Emily looked disappointed. ‘Nothing new. What with all the talk about the Winter War and the Soviets attacking Finland, I’ve been worried sick. The trouble is not knowing where George is or where he might be. I worry about every bit of news that comes up: is he fighting the Hun or the Soviets?’ she said with a desperateness in her voice. ‘I feel so stupid and helpless not knowing.’
Ada quickly moved to restore her friend’s spirits. ‘At least you’ve got his parents, Em, that’s something. It means you’re part of George’s family,’ she said enthusiastically, as she gratefully accepted the mug of hot tea that Gloria had brewed on the little electric hotplate they kept in their room.
‘And I’ve had news of Stan,’ Gloria told Ada. ‘Like Em, I don’t know exactly where he is. He mentioned in his letter that they were desperate for more back-up troops, so I’m guessing that means he’s in the thick of it somewhere.’
‘Well, now that conscription’s covering men from nineteen to forty-one, there are bound to be thousands more troops deployed,’ Ada said. ‘Though nineteen seems young – thank God my little brother’s only eighteen – I couldn’t bear to see him go marching off to war.’
‘So you do have a young man in your life?’ Gloria teased.
‘Well, I suppose my brother is a young man,’ Ada conceded. ‘Though I always think of him as a kid,’ she said with an indulgent smile.
‘Ada’s married to her job,’ Emily joked.
Ada looked thoughtful as she sipped her tea. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve had boyfriends,’ she admitted. ‘They’ve just never come up to scratch.’
‘You’re a woman with high standards,’ Emily laughed.
‘I think we’ve all got high standards when it comes to men,’ Gloria murmured. ‘I couldn’t bear to live with a man who didn’t love his country, even though I never stopped nagging poor Stan about being too patriotic. What a cow I was,’ she said sorrowfully, recalling their bitter disagreements about Stan joining up.
‘Stop scourging yourself, woman!’ Emily cried. ‘I would have willingly laid down in the road and been reversed over by a tank if it would have stopped George from flying over enemy territory.’
‘We’re a couple of hypocrites,’ Gloria continued. ‘We want peace in our time but we’d prefer it if somebody else’s fella did the fighting.’
Ada laid aside her empty cup. ‘Moving on to an entirely different subject – can you believe Shirley is hoping to become a nun?’
‘I don’t know why it never crossed her mind before,’ Gloria said. ‘She’s as innocent as the day the world was created.’
Cheeky Em couldn’t stop herself from smiling. ‘I wonder what name she’ll take if she does make it through?’
A mischievous smile played around Ada’s full, rosy-red lips. ‘Possibly Sister Mopalot!’
‘Or Sister Brillo Pad!’ Emily laughed. ‘Nobody cleans better than our Shirley; she could go straight to heaven on that basis alone.’
31. Jingle Bells
Prior to Shirley’s forthcoming interview regarding her entering the religious life, the Reverend Mother
had a very blunt conversation about the girl with Sister Ann.
‘One of the rules of the convent is that nobody entering the order can have dependent children,’ she started.
‘As you know Shirley did have a child, a little girl, earlier on this year; she was legally adopted,’ Sister Ann explained.
The Reverend Mother came straight to the point. ‘And how do we know the poor child’s not pregnant again after her recent visit home?’
‘Sister Ada examined Shirley on her return to the Home; mercifully, after all that happened to her, she isn’t pregnant.’
The Reverend Mother crossed herself, muttering, ‘God help the poor child.’
‘Indeed,’ Sister Ann fervently agreed.
Sticking to the facts, the Reverend Mother moved swiftly on. ‘How are Shirley’s studies progressing?’
Sister Ann smiled proudly. ‘She’s grasped her subjects quickly and shows a great eagerness to learn more, even Latin, which she may well struggle with.’
The Reverend Mother smothered a smile. ‘I’ve struggled with Latin all my life, Sister!’
In the schoolroom, blissfully unaware of the conversation that was taking place in the convent, Shirley and Robin were singing Christmas songs in readiness for the service that always took place in the convent chapel on Christmas Eve. Shirley had a remarkably melodic voice: she could sing harmonies and hold high notes, which lent the traditional carols like ‘Silent Night’ and ‘Angels from the Realms of Glory’ great beauty; but when it came to the fun songs it was Robin who took the credit. His forte was ‘Jingle Bells’, reading the words that Gloria had chalked up on the portable blackboard she’d set up in the dining room. He and Shirley belted out the song until the rafters rang.
Delighted by their singing, Sister Mary Paul popped out of the kitchen and stood by the piano so she could applaud them when they finished and hand out the warm jam tarts she’d just taken from the oven.
‘To give them a bit o’ strength after all their fine efforts,’ she said, sending an adoring smile in Robin’s direction.
After Robin had gulped down his glass of milk, he dragged Shirley out into the garden to play snowballs.
‘Come on,’ he yelled. ‘We’ll build a snowman too!’
Pretending to resist but loving the fun, Shirley – like the child she was at heart – tore after him, yelling, ‘Hey, wait for me!’
Watching her go, Sister Mary Paul murmured, ‘God love the girl.’
Turning to Gloria, who was sipping the cup of tea the nun had made for her, she added, ‘You know, I’ve been thinking,’ she said, going off at a tangent, ‘it would be nice to have a Nativity Play on Christmas Eve.’
Robin, who’d just bounded in from the garden with glowing red cheeks and sparkling green eyes, caught Sister Mary Paul mid-sentence.
‘What’s a Nativity Play?’ he asked eagerly.
‘It’s a play about the birth of the baby Jesus in the stable at Bethlehem,’ the nun explained.
Gloria jogged her son’s memory. ‘We had a Nativity Play at your old school in Battersea – you played the part of the donkey last year.’
Robin’s eyes lit up. ‘I remember!’ he exclaimed.
‘Sister Mary Paul would like us to have a Nativity Play here at Mary Vale,’ Gloria explained.
‘YES!’ Robin squeaked. Talking to Shirley, who’d followed him indoors, he continued, ‘Shirley can be an angel ’cos she sings like one and Mummy can be Mary ’cos she’s got a baby in her tummy!’
‘Mine isn’t Jesus!’ Gloria laughingly protested.
‘Glory be to God!’ Mary Paul giggled. ‘What will the child say next?’
Unperturbed Robin babbled on. ‘Sister Ann can be God and Merry Paul can be a camel!’
‘I thought the kings and the camel came later,’ Mary Paul reminded Robin, who ignored her and rolled on. ‘And I’ll be Father Christmas’ he announced.
‘Was Father Christmas in Bethlehem when Jesus was born?’ Shirley cheekily asked.
‘No,’ Gloria giggled. ‘But, believe me, that won’t stop Robin.’
Taken with the idea of treading the boards for the first time in her life, Sister Mary Paul chuckled. ‘Well, I don’t mind being the camel, but I think you might have your work cut out persuading Sister Ann to be God!’
Isla, who had bounced back to health after her daughter’s birth, expressed a wish to Ada that she wanted to leave Mary Vale soon.
‘I’d like to spend Christmas in Windermere,’ she said. ‘Is that very selfish of me?’ she asked with a guilty flush.
Ada’s bright blue eyes opened wide and she smiled. ‘Of course not, dear! As long as you’re fit and well enough to leave, I’ll discharge you whenever you please.’
‘What I mean is …’ Isla struggled to find the right words to express herself. ‘Is it wrong of me to leave Heather at Christmas time?’ Tears flooded her eyes and she blurted out, ‘I feel if I have her over Christmas, I’ll never be able to let her go!’
Ada laid an arm around Isla’s shaking shoulders. ‘You have to do what’s best for you AND for Heather too,’ she said firmly. ‘Christmas is a highly emotional time. If you can’t deal with that on top of leaving Heather, then it’s sensible of you to separate off the two issues.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ Isla said with obvious relief. ‘I don’t want to mix sentiment with love. It’s going to be hard enough as it is,’ she confessed with a sad, heavy sigh.
‘I understand, I really do,’ Ada assured her friend and patient.
‘I knew you would,’ Isla said. ‘You are an amazing nurse, Sister Ada – I shall miss you so very much.’
‘Well, I hope you’ll come and see us,’ Ada said cheerfully.
Isla shook her head. ‘I don’t think so: it would be an agony coming back to Mary Vale and finding Heather gone – best avoided,’ she concluded.
‘Make sure you tell the girls what your plans are,’ Ada urged. ‘They’ll miss you something rotten, especially Em. I suspect she’ll be lost without you.’
‘Em and I bonded almost right away when we first met,’ Isla said with great affection. ‘But our experience out there on the marsh with Shirley made us closer than ever – she’s a great girl!’
When her friends heard that Isla was planning on leaving the Home before Christmas, they were shocked.
‘Oh, no!’ Emily gasped before she could stop herself. ‘I thought you’d be with us at least until after Christmas.’
Isla squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, Em. I’ve just explained to Ada that I simply can’t do that, not without bonding even more with Heather.
Pulling herself together for her friend’s sake, Emily immediately said, ‘Of, course, I understand, Isla. But, God knows, how I’ll miss you, sweetheart!’
Later, when Isla was busy elsewhere, Ada called Emily, Shirley, Gloria and Sister Ann into her office.
‘Now we know that Isla’s leaving,’ she started, ‘I want us to put our heads together and work out a plan of action that will protect Heather.’ Lowering her voice, Ada continued, ‘We must not frighten Isla; she mustn’t hear us talking like this. She’s got a lot on her plate and we don’t want to add to it.’
‘Nevertheless, she must be worried,’ Gloria insisted.
‘I’m sure she is, but it’s our job to convince her that we’ll look after her baby in her absence – Isla must leave Mary Vale feeling as confident as she can be, given the circumstances,’ Ada insisted.
The women grouped around her nodded in agreement with her sentiments.
‘We’ll do our best,’ Emily promised.
‘Once Isla’s gone, we’ve got to focus on Matron – but she mustn’t guess what we’re up to!’ Ada warned.
‘Look what happened to me once she got suspicious!’ Shirley angrily reminded her friends.
‘Gloria and I can tail Matron about the Home, possibly with Shirley’s help when she’s able?’ Emily suggested. ‘While you and Sister Ann watch her on
the wards and in the hospital area.’
‘And somebody needs to monitor her movements around the back of the house and the tradesman’s entrance,’ Sister Ann chipped in.
‘We could ask Sister Mary Paul?’ Shirley suggested, ‘She’s a regular Rottweiler when it comes to protecting her brood,’ she giggled.
‘So, we have a basic plan?’ Ada asked.
Her friends solemnly nodded.
‘From the moment Isla leaves the Home, our priority is Heather,’ Shirley said.
‘And under NO circumstances must Heather ever be left alone with Matron, Dr Jones or Sir Percival,’ Ada concluded.
Hearing of Isla’s imminent departure, Matron was determined that she should not be the one to remove Heather from the nursery. It had been a nightmare with Tom, and she’d got away with it, but she couldn’t pull that trick a second time. She couldn’t afford to spirit away another child on the flimsy excuse that the adoptive parents had arrived in the middle of the night; and she couldn’t use the death-by-measles excuse again; it would have to be an altogether different scenario, and one that didn’t include her. Matron wished they didn’t have to do the handover at the Grange, but where else could money, papers and a baby be exchanged? It was too much of a risk to bring the parents to the Home; the business was better conducted in the privacy of the Grange, even if it was nerve-racking.
Matron’s nagging problem was solved when, on her daily ward inspection, she spotted Isla fumbling to change Heather’s nappy; as she awkwardly tried to balance the baby on her knee, Heather rolled forwards, and if Isla hadn’t snatched hold of her, she would most certainly have landed on the floor.
‘Take care, Isla,’ Matron said, approaching the new mother, who was flushed and shaking. ‘That could have resulted in a very nasty accident.’
An eager-to-impress, know-all girl beside Isla who was also changing her baby’s nappy said, ‘A girl not long ago dropped her baby and the poor little mite broke its arm. Poor kid never stopped bawling.’
Blushing with guilt, Isla mumbled, ‘It was an accident.’